


Dream cycle

by cosmic_kid



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:30:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_kid/pseuds/cosmic_kid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>poems inspired by The Raven Cycle</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dream pt. 1 (The Dream Pack)

dream pt. 1

pack of highway dogs  
this cracked-open night,  
headlight-stained- the gods  
we worship have asphalt veins,  
crushed-pill altars so we’ll see  
through the veil-

welcome to new jersey  
welcome to hell-

baptized your sinner’s frantic heart  
in the bone-yard swamps we swam up  
from the industrial heart, our dogs  
unchained- 

the gods we worship have refinery veins-

let our towers light, we’re factory kids and  
we’re flared out, bright, morning-star’s own  
blessed ragged acolytes- dirty apostles come  
on raging home; drown in the dark black  
river’s poison, rise up stronger, rise up new-

we’re basement kings  
we’re steel guts and bones  
we’re the storm trash, what remains-

the gods we worship have vodka veins,  
have hallucinogenic muted lips,  
extend your hands-  
we’ll bloody up the kiss of death we got built in dreams,  
we’re everything you’ve never seen  
we’re gods in waiting for  
the current sweep  
we’ll worship ourselves wound in dangerous sleep


	2. dream pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to be Kavinsky/Prokopenko but you could probably read Rovinsky into it as well.

dream pt. 2  
could have only been dreamt;  
nothing fits as well beneath his hands:  
steering wheel, sweater-sleeves,  
dark hungry spaces-

you’re gonna be the god’s lieutenant  
and isn’t that a fine afterlife for a child  
born in wine-dark blood, how many chances  
are there waking, waking, and waking-

and never again  
to sleep-

he comes in handfuls, rubbed-raw;  
the grainy smear of asphalt, the  
crushed heaven train powdered over  
numb lips- looks like an angel when he   
sleeps, like the big-eyed cliché of  
hollow-cheeked children-

turnpike trash blooms dark in the hills  
and none of you ever belonged here-

you belong to him but you don’t know  
why and when you sleep there’s just  
a gaunt reflection staring back, hand bloodied,  
raised, motioning-

come home come home come home

but you are already there,  
right?


	3. dream pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kavinsky

dream pt. 3  
fucking proud of degradation;  
say all you want, it’s all been said-  
nothing new spread between  
his hard-luck hands

and the magic made it all the bleeding;  
can’t have this world cut, breathing open  
to the daylight possibilities-

let those fine gold kings sit in quiet halls  
let them fall, let them fall,  
the moon rises in the refinery split, the  
highway slick with ichor bright-  
all the best things bloom at night and  
you may be king but he’ll be god

see who skins this cursed place raw  
see who’s blessing stand to fall and erupt  
in sacrifice-

there’s nothing he hasn’t done before;  
he’s brass and bone, exhaust, chrome,  
all the drum-beats harken war;  
this is what he was made for.


	4. dream pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lynch Brothers

dream pt. 4

when there’s the heavy spread  
on broad freckled skin, shoulders  
sturdy and the world let in-

someone’s always bred to win  
no matter the state he’s dragged   
his heart it’s not the world

he’s torn apart he’s just refused the  
tragedy; people die, fathers die, it’s  
the ones that are left who have to decide-

whether standing means the battle cry  
the soft whispered dove-winged sigh  
the hard-edged care sharpened steel-bright-

there’s room enough in each to fight  
but never on a single side-

he cleaned the blood out of his eyes  
and bore hatred raging- he knew what  
it meant to lose, and to lose

is inherently a selfish thing; there’s  
no camaraderie in grief for grieving brothers-  
all that’s left is one another

to tear apart-

father dreamed his life to rot  
but three is sacred, entwined-  
and if hate’s enough to get them by-

well that’s what death has come to mean  
left open in the cavernous dream  
the dreamer’s remains picked raven-clean.


	5. dream pt. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gansey

dreams pt. 5

they built these walls for me,  
I don’t belong to anywhere else  
and I wouldn’t have chosen it  
for myself but here I am and  
now I know

this is the bloom in love, grown  
desperate, choking- never since  
death and death there’s been  
so much else; and let me be

the sun, let me be gold, let me  
be the shadow-set, let me be  
the stone, unturned, all the  
cycles I’ve meant to learn, all

the building work I’ve done let  
me lead them on- let me  
be the sun brilliant bright let me  
get to sleep tonight

I need to sleep tonight  
and dreams are woven stingers,  
set and I am alone when the  
night collects its sweet mountain  
breath-

I am stained glass and fragile   
bones I am charcoal-burnt and  
all alone I am in bitter love   
and I am smooth as stone and  
here I am, here I’m home


	6. dream pt. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah Czerny. Kind of wrote this as Blue/Noah but that's not like...set in stone hah

dream pt. 6

smudge dirt along your jawbone  
and pretend this pond is Lethe  
and forget the violence broken  
and the bones kept underneath and  
the blood that cools in turgid veins  
the starry glitter grin-

you’re what I dreamed the dead to be  
and you’re so desperate yet to live-

and no matter all the unearthed rage  
the horror bred in smoke; the   
taut-pulled line that slices through  
what we are and what we know,  
I’ll smudge the sweet skin   
of your cheek you’re so soft and true and real

and I’ll never need to hear you speak  
because how loud I know you feel;  
I’ll take you home, I’ll keep you here,  
I’ll bend all of time and space-  
and they don’t see what I see when I smear  
my fingers across your face


	7. dream pt. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Declan & Ronan

your brother is the burning heart of ore,  
the steel melted for the sword the carrion  
bird circling war; he’s all those late-night  
accidents, he’s a comet blazing, all intent  
to blur the atmosphere from view, he’s  
all your father’s dreams come true-

he isn’t you.

and all your pretty smiling lies all your  
careful shaded eyes you leave behind to  
watch the world around him fold, watch  
the blood he’s spun from gold and you  
will never say the melted words that   
cling hard around your gleaming heart; you  
love him as he tears apart the night right  
from its haunted seams-

he is made of dangerous dreams  
he’s your font of shadowed rage he’s  
your gilded thorns, your cage  
of cruel violence unleashed; and you  
love him bright and dark and blinding  
you love him all the muted   
binding legalese you hide behind; you  
love your bitter raw brother whole  
and he hates all you have become and  
all you have done and he hates that  
hidden furious love.


End file.
